


vice

by compendiary



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 17:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17729387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compendiary/pseuds/compendiary
Summary: In the midst of all activity it dawns on Yukhei then that they both have chosen their vice. He thought that Mark had chosen alcohol as his coping mechanism, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. On the other hand, he thought that he had found ways to distract himself from thinking about Mark—all better choices than what Mark had chosen—but it’s not true.At the end of the day, they are each other’s vice.





	vice

Whatever this is has become a routine that Yukhei knows all too well about. It’s not that it happens very often—because it doesn’t, really—but it is what it is. It becomes a routine.

Every other weekend at around 3AM, Yukhei will receive a text message from an unknown number. Or rather, Yukhei will receive a _series_ of text messages, and the messages will usually be undecipherable Korean characters that don’t even form actual words. There will be consonants typed into where vowels should be and vowels pressed repeatedly without completing a word.

It’s funny because Yukhei’s stopped taking the time to think about what these messes of characters could mean. It doesn’t really matter what words they form, anyway, because he always gets the gist of the messages.

_Pick me up._

Yukhei is anything but a fool. He knows exactly what double ‘S’ characters mean side by side even though they might look like two pointless consonants beside each other. It used to puzzle him how the Korean alphabets don’t correlate with the English ones and instead practice using loan alphabets for the absent consonants. In this case, there’s no character for ‘X’ in Korean, and they use ‘S’ to replace it instead.

Double ‘S’ characters means _Xuxi_.

Not many people are allowed to call Yukhei “Xuxi”. He’s known as “Lucas” to most of his acquaintances outside of his friend circle made up of Chinese nationals like himself. Only his Chinese friends call him “Xuxi” because that’s his name when romanised in Mandarin, but otherwise he goes by “Lucas” to save time having to explain the variations in his name.

The only people aside from his Chinese friends to call him “Xuxi” are the select few that he lets pick it up from said friends. Growing up in Hong Kong he’s always been known as “Wong Yukhei” in Cantonese, and he only realised just how _cute_ his name sounded when spoken in Mandarin after he moved abroad to South Korea where he made mainland Chinese friends.

“Xuxi” sounds endearing. It sounds intimate, even. There’s something sacred about the way his name is said in Mandarin, so he doesn’t just let anybody call him that.

The first time Yukhei received his first text message of many in that style was two months ago. It was simple enough—a whole mess of characters and nonsensical words—and he was inclined to close his messaging app to call it a night until he noticed the two ‘S’ characters.

He waited a whole minute before the ‘S’ alphabets were followed up by what clearly spells out a _Xu_ , but whoever on the other side of the conversation still couldn’t succeed with typing out a _Xi_.

It didn’t take Yukhei very long to figure out exactly who the messages were coming from.

 _Mark, are you drinking?_ Yukhei had typed back, sighing to himself.

All he received in reply from the mystery sender was another load of gibberish characters and what Yukhei barely made out to be _with hyungs, come quick_.

That was the start of a series of events that Yukhei now refers to as his “weekly visit” whenever he thinks about it to himself. He doesn’t have the courage to speak about this with his close friends because he knows very well what they’ll say to him if they ever find out. He doesn’t need their criticism when it comes to a matter like this.

Yukhei is well aware of what he’s doing and he doesn’t need people on the sidelines to tell him what to do. This is _his_ problem and this is _his_ life, so he’s determined to make his own decisions and to suffer the consequences himself.

Things could be multiple times worse anyway. Receiving drunk texts from his ex is the least of his worries.

He doesn’t expect Mark to text him tonight because it’s a weekday, but he receives a similarly worded text message at exactly 2.34AM, and he shuts his eyes tight when he sees the notification light up on his phone. It’s a quiet Thursday night for him, like most Thursdays are, but now he’s tasked with the job of being his ex’s designated driver and it’s starting to seem like this is becoming clockwork.

There should have been a clear line drawn between the two of them after their breakup, but whatever demarcation they had for the first few weeks after they stopped seeing each other has been blurred ever since this whole thing started. Yukhei’s beginning to forget exactly _when_ and _how_ they ended things between them, and whatever this arrangement is has been toeing too close to the edge of reconciliation without them actually discussing it.

Their breakup wasn’t over something large that happened during the relationship. In fact, it was over something that hadn’t even happened yet. The time they spent together wasn’t by any means long, but it wasn’t a short period of time either. They were together long enough for their breakup to hurt, but not long enough for Yukhei to understand the significance of his pain.

It was mutual, anyway. They both agreed that they’d be better off as friends because they didn’t want to simply cut each other off when there was no bad blood involved.

But it’s definitely a lot harder to be just friends with someone you still love.

It’s even more difficult to pretend that you don’t care that you’re the first person they think to contact when they’re drunk out of their mind.

It’s conflicting. On one hand, Yukhei wonders if this means that they should try again. Maybe whatever issue it was they foresaw in the future of their relationship wouldn’t even be such a problem if they let nature take its course. On the other hand, Yukhei knows that their decision was a mature one. It’s better off to cut things clean between two people who just aren’t meant for each other than for them to suffer an even worse pain when the time comes for them to part.

Yukhei’s fingers reach for his phone and he promptly unlocks it. _Where are you_ , he types with precision, not tacking on an emoji like he usually would when texting on the daily.

The reply he receives is instant. In between the mess of gibberish is _JN hyung_ and that’s enough for Yukhei to figure out the exact area Mark is referring to.

He’s not usually this accommodating. Yukhei doesn’t just pick up anyone at this time of the night. Dejun called him past 12AM asking for him to pick him up from the airport once and Yukhei, knowing that it was heartless, decided to send a taxi his way instead because he couldn’t be bothered to climb out of the comfortable blanket cocoon he had found himself in.

He received many colourful cusses from Dejun in their group chat that night but he didn’t bother to read them until the morning after.

In the case of Mark, the option of saying no never even crosses his mind.

He pulls on a grey hoodie over his tank top and slips his car keys into the pocket of his sweatpants, sniffling slightly as he makes his way towards the front door of his apartment. His footsteps against the parqueted ground echo into his own ears and he’s suddenly hyperaware of just how empty his home has been ever since Mark stopped coming over all those months ago.

The drive to the bar Johnny owns is a quiet one. Yukhei doesn’t turn on the radio and he lets the thrumming of the engine of his car entertain him throughout the 15-minute drive there. The bar is quiet by the time Yukhei parks right outside of it and the familiar ‘Open’ sign has long been flipped to a ‘Closed’.

Yukhei sees Mark’s figure huddled in a corner he knows all too well. They frequented Johnny’s bar together as a couple every week because Johnny is a mutual friend of theirs amongst many, and the booth Mark is currently lying in happens to be the same one they used to occupy whenever they visited.

Yukhei finds that Mark isn’t alone. He’s slumped over a figure that looks an awful lot like Taeyong, and then there are a few more characters seated right opposite them chatting idly. Everyone but Mark looks up when Yukhei steps into the area.

“Oh,” Yuta exclaims, looking surprised but at the same time not. “You’re here.”

Mark’s group of friends used to be Yukhei’s friends, too. It’s been complicated having to navigate who gets to keep their friends and who doesn’t, so Yukhei naturally backed off the people that Mark introduced him to. Mark stopped talking to his group of Chinese friends too, so Yukhei supposes that they split their friends according to a first come, first serve basis.

Yukhei wordlessly makes his way towards Mark, offering the people he hasn’t properly spoken to in a while a curt nod each. He catches Taeyong’s eye as the latter tries to rouse Mark from his alcohol-induced slumber, and all he sees reflected in Taeyong’s eyes is pity.

Maybe Yukhei is pitiful. He probably looks like a fool, driving all the way out here at a God forsaken time of the night for someone that he shouldn’t even be hanging around anymore.

But then Yukhei recognises that Taeyong is directing the same look at Mark, and it all falls into place.

Yukhei isn’t the only pitiful one here.

“I’ll take him home,” Yukhei says quietly when Johnny runs over to help manoeuvre Mark into Yukhei’s arms. “Does he have his keys? His phone?”

Mark is leaning heavily against Yukhei’s chest now, his face buried into the crook of Yukhei’s shoulder. He has a surprisingly tight grip for someone who’s wasted beyond his senses and his grip around Yukhei’s chest is firm. Mark murmurs something under his breath that Yukhei can’t quite catch.

Doyoung clicks his tongue from his seat in the booth, giving Yukhei a small tilt of his lips that’s just an inkling of a smile. “We wanted to take him home but,” he starts to explain, and Yukhei only shakes his head.

He’s heard this before. _We wanted to take him home but he wanted you to come_. Yukhei has stopped questioning Mark’s drunken intentions now. Like he said, it’s become routine. Maybe Yukhei might start to feel empty if Mark doesn’t text him past midnight in another week.

He mirrors Doyoung’s smile, feeling the weak lift at the edges of his lips. It’s forced more than it’s sincere. He hasn’t been smiling much ever since he stopped going out with Mark. “You should stop him from drinking next time,” Yukhei utters, but it’s also not something he hasn’t already said before.

It’s probably the same for Mark as it is for him. Their friends mean well and offer constructive advice on how they can redirect their emotions, but it’s difficult for them to listen to people who just don’t _understand_. They might know of what Yukhei and Mark are going through, but there’s no way for them to truly understand what it feels like because it isn’t happening to them. Empathy and experience are two entirely different concepts.

Whatever this mess is doesn’t involve them directly.

Taeyong looks sorry about the whole thing when Yukhei scoops Mark up into his arms, carrying the man bridal style. “Can you manage?” he asks solemnly, wincing slightly when he sees Mark sluggishly swat at Yukhei’s face with one limp hand. “I can go with you if you want.”

Yukhei shakes his head, suddenly thankful for all the hours that he’s been spending in the gym to blow off steam in the recent weeks. “I’m good,” he assures everyone, nodding at each one of them in turn. “Goodnight, guys.”

And then he’s off.

 

* * *

 

Their breakup extends over three phases—the issue, the avoidance, and the agreement. At least, this is how Yukhei breaks down the timeline for himself whenever he thinks about it. It’s not something that he likes revisiting very often, but it’s something that he knows he cannot run from for long. It’s perpetually etched into the back of his mind like a tattoo, the incident burning itself into the tissues of his brain, scarring over and leaving an ugly mark behind.

The issue is the fact that they cannot agree on how they’ll be spending their one-month break during one of the last semesters of their course. Yukhei and Mark both major in economics, a boring subject but a crucial stepping stone into the corporate world, and they have drastically different plans for what to do during the holiday.

Yukhei’s father wants him to go back to Hong Kong and get a feel of the family business by working a short internship over at Wong Corporation to familiarise himself with what will soon be his company.

Mark, on the other hand, wants to carry out a cross-country road trip back in Canada and he wants Yukhei to come with, no questions asked. It’s their last long holiday before they’re bound to graduate and enter the workforce, and Mark is determined that they spend the remainder of their time being unemployed university students wisely.

It’s a sharp slap to the face when they both bring up different countries.

Yukhei’s argument is, “But my dad needs me in China.”

Mark has his arms crossed when he says, “I want to show you my home in Canada.”

After the issue is brought up, it doesn’t get buried. This little detail, their differing plans for a stupid one-month break, gnaws at the edge of Yukhei’s mind until it consumes him. _They have entirely different plans for the future_.

Yukhei confirms this by talking to Jaehyun, who mentions offhandedly that Mark has talked about going back to Canada because it’s where he still feels most comfortable. Yukhei knows that Mark’s family resides back in the Western hemisphere and Mark only chose to study here because he always felt detached from his Korean heritage and wanted to get to know his culture better. It’s never really been a question of whether Mark will continue to stay in Seoul after graduating, but it’s certainly something that Yukhei has never given much thought.

Yukhei himself has no plans to stay in South Korea after getting his degree. His father had a whole timeline laid out for him ever since he suggested the idea of studying abroad, and this is it. Yukhei’s father will ease him into their family business after he graduates, introducing him to the large conglomerate that Yukhei will prove himself to deserve one of these days, and that’s that. Yukhei was always groomed to be the heir of Hong Kong’s largest multinational company and he’s an idiot to have let himself forget that.

The issue is unmistakably an issue. There’s no running away from it now.

But they do. They don’t talk about it.

The avoidance happens bit by bit. At first, they ignore the topic of their respective holidays as the days pass by and their break inches closer. Yukhei already has his first-class plane ticket booked and ready to go in his email inbox, and he’s seen Mark look up flights to Vancouver on more than one occasion, but they don’t talk about it.

They eat lunch together, they play video games together, they kiss each other on the forehead before bed but they avoid the topic altogether.

It’s until they completely stop talking when it becomes a bigger problem than it initially was.

Yukhei hasn’t heard from Mark in a couple of days and his flight to Shenzhen is going to take off in less than an hour. He’s seated in a large armchair in the airport lounge, fiddling with the ring on his index finger as he stares at the black screen of his phone.

He texted Mark earlier letting him know that he’ll be leaving for break, but it’s been three hours and Mark still hasn’t given him a reply.

Eventually, Mark calls. Yukhei is already on the plane by this time. His phone rings thirty seconds after the pilot’s announcement that all electronics should be shut down, and Yukhei only offers the flight attendant a guilty smile as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he says into the receiver, noting the hushed sounds of breathing coming from the other end as Mark continues to stay silent. “Mark?”

“You’re really going?” Mark asks, and it’s a quiet question. It makes Yukhei feel bad, as if Yukhei were the one making an executive decision to leave him behind.

“Yeah.”

Mark swallows audibly. “Okay. I’ll see you in a month.”

And with that, Yukhei hears the line disconnect and the plane takes off.

They’re both stupid to think that they can work this out without talking. Or maybe Yukhei is the stupid one, because he still hasn’t explicitly discussed Mark’s thoughts on the issue with him. Yukhei is assuming that Mark echoes his sentiments.

The agreement occurs after they both return from break. They talked occasionally on the phone during the holiday, their FaceTime calls were brief and only scratching the surface. Mark showed Yukhei the backyard of the house he grew up in and introduced him to a couple of his friends that he drove cross-country with; Yukhei let Mark see the inside of his father’s office and the pathetic little cubicle his father had built for him in the corner of the room.

They almost don’t know what to say to each other when they first meet again.

It’s not like they’re completely keyed into every detail of the other person’s holiday activities, but they don’t exactly want to make conversation about it either.

It’s during a boring pizza date on their third day back when Mark finally speaks. “Are you really going back to China?” he asks, and the silence that follows is deafening. Their PlayStation controllers have long been discarded onto the rug and the background music coming from the television doesn’t cover up the tension in the room.

Yukhei gulps down his bite of pepperoni pizza, looking back at Mark without blinking. “Yes,” he finally says after a while, his food suddenly seeming less appetising than before.

“You’ll never, _never ever_ consider moving to Canada with me?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Mark sets his half-eaten slice back into the cardboard box. “What about staying here?” he adds, and it sounds like a compromise. “Would you consider staying here?”

 _Here_. It sounds good—a little too good to be true—Seoul becoming their very own sanctuary. A place for them to avoid all responsibilities, all people, even themselves. They don’t have to be Wong Yukhei and Mark Lee here, they’ll just be two individuals stupidly in love and in denial.

Mark’s gaze is steely as he continues to hold eye contact with Yukhei. This is by far one of the longest times that they’ve locked eyes without one person or the other looking away after bursting into a fit of giggles. Mark doesn’t seem to find any amusement in this.

“What about you?” Yukhei questions back, laying his pizza on top of Mark’s slice.

“I don’t know.”

It takes them a few more minutes to let reality settle in. They don’t know what they both want exactly, but one thing is for sure—whatever they have planned for the future don’t intersect, their plans diverge.

The pizza settled at the pit of Yukhei’s stomach suddenly feels heavier than it did just a moment ago. There’s a suffocating pressure on the top of his chest, making it harder to breathe. He’s never had an episode of acid reflux before, but the burning at the back of his throat suggests that he’s going to experience it for the very first time right now.

It’s difficult to ignore how Mark’s eyes look wetter as they continue to stare at each other. Yukhei feels his own eyes water as well. He’s not sure why he’s tearing up, really, because he feels numb.

The month he spent away from Mark put a lot of things into perspective, and he thought that he’d be ready to accept whatever came for them next, but right now it feels like he’s struggling to stay afloat even as he continues to swim.

“I don’t know if we…” Mark opens his mouth to say, but he gets choked up mid-sentence.

“I don’t know either,” Yukhei says, looking down at the grease covering his fingers.

It feels like a lifetime before Yukhei hears Mark shift from his seat before him, and soon Mark’s figure is looming over him as he stands up. “I really love you,” Mark whispers, using the fingers of his clean hand to curl under Yukhei’s chin, forcing Yukhei to look up from his lap.

Yukhei doesn’t know what to say back.

Mark leans down, capturing Yukhei’s lips in a kiss, and it’s a searing one. Mark doesn’t take his time to ease it in, already pushing his tongue past Yukhei’s lips before he knows it. It’s hot, wet, and desperate. If there’s a message Mark wants to deliver with the kiss, it’s desperation.

Yukhei returns the kiss equally as hurriedly, cupping a hand at the back of Mark’s neck, making sure to keep his dirty hand out of Mark’s hair.

The kiss doesn’t bring any real satisfaction. It’s just messy and quick, as if it’s their first and their last.

They break apart for air after a while, their chests heaving as they look each other in the eyes once more.

Mark doesn’t say anything before he pads towards the door, his footsteps firm and quick. He brushes his forearm across his lips, hurriedly slipping on his shoes as he goes.

“Mark,” Yukhei calls, and he doesn’t know why it feels like the last time. “I love you.”

Mark doesn’t look back once as he shuts the door behind him.

 

* * *

  

Yukhei can’t recall the last time he stuck to a routine for an extended period of time. Nothing lasts forever, and he doesn’t remember himself to be a person who’s particularly stubborn about keeping to a schedule.

He realises belatedly that meeting with Mark during late nights like this doesn’t help him progress in whatever way. He’s been hung up over the breakup for far too long now and he can only imagine the look on Kun’s face when the latter realises what Yukhei has been up to every weekend. The earful Yukhei is prepared to receive from his unofficial personal advisor is preferable to the autonomous thoughts that have been swimming through his head.

But is it not okay for Yukhei to want to know that Mark is safe? They don’t contact each other unnecessarily outside of this “pick me up” arrangement—in fact, Mark doesn’t even acknowledge his extended history of texting Yukhei while drunk.

Yukhei’s job is simple and straightforward. He picks Mark up from whatever bar he’s at with his friends for the night and he drops him off at his place that he shares with Jeno.

Jeno doesn’t particularly like Yukhei, but Yukhei doesn’t care enough to ask why.

The process is like delivering a package. Yukhei will hoist Mark up in whatever manner he can manage that night and drag him towards his apartment complex. There, they will travel up to the 21st floor where Mark’s apartment is, and Yukhei will then key in the passcode that he hasn’t gotten the opportunity to forget. The lights to the place will usually be off by this time of the night, so Yukhei will navigate his way blindly through the hallway to find Mark’s room.

Sometimes, if Yukhei is unlucky, Jeno will appear from his room to give him an unimpressed once-over before taking Mark’s limp body from him, telling him that he’ll “take it from here.”

It soon gets a little repetitive for Yukhei’s tastes and it dawns on him that he’s not doing himself any favours by constantly gravitating towards Mark like a moth to a flame.

When did Mark even pick up drinking like that?

They’re both finding their own ways to cope with their separation, but Yukhei never considered that Mark would pick alcohol as his vice.

A week after picking Mark up from Johnny’s bar, a similar message from Mark comes once again. It’s funny to think that Yukhei deleted his number only to continue to receive regular text messages from him, and it’s even funnier to think about how Mark doesn’t have Yukhei’s number saved either and somehow manages to send him texts even in his drunken stupor. Yukhei knows this because Taeil told him once.

“Donghyuck deleted your number from his phone a long time ago, but he probably has it memorised.”

Yukhei doesn’t question it. He used to have Mark’s number ingrained into his brain too, but Mark changed numbers after they parted ways and he hasn’t gotten around to looking at his new number properly yet.

Yukhei struggles with himself internally, unsure of whether he should respond or just let it go. Maybe if he finally breaks this routine, Mark will back off. They’ll stop seeing each other completely, giving them the clean break that they need to get over this hurdle. But the thought of Mark waiting for him while slumped over someone else conveys a bitterness that Yukhei can’t quite pinpoint.

He wants to be there for Mark in every foolish way.

 _Okay, I’m coming right now_ , Yukhei taps onto his screen against his rational mind, taking an audible gulp. _But I hope you remember that we’ve broken up_. The lack of read receipts on his recent text messages lets him know that Mark hasn’t seen them yet.

He sighs, making the trek for the umpteenth time towards his front door, his footsteps weighed down by the conflicting emotions in his head. It’s easy to forget it all the moment he gets into his car, the revving of the ignition putting only one objective into his head.

He doesn’t know why he gets such a kick out of literally picking his ex-boyfriend up. Sometimes Yukhei wonders if this is the highlight of his week, because every other activity he does over the course of the seven days doesn’t seem to stick, and every other moment that passes by is just another fragment in time leading him to the next opportunity for him to see Mark.

Oh, there it is. It’s seeing Mark.

Yukhei kills that trail of thought when he pulls up to one of the usual spots Mark seems to frequent these days, Jungwoo’s newly-opened gay bar. It’s not his favourite place because the last time he picked Mark up from the area, he found Mark curled up into the lap of a stranger who didn’t even acknowledge Yukhei when he practically had to pry Mark out of his grasp.

Yukhei expects a part two of that happening tonight.

Except it doesn’t happen.

Yukhei sees Mark upright, looking somewhat sober, with a fruity-looking cocktail in his hand, leaning against the bar as he’s being chatted up by someone else. Yukhei wants to turn his heel and leave, but it’s too late.

Mark looks up right when Yukhei decides that he’s going to bounce and they lock eyes. It’s almost stupid how Mark’s expression immediately exposes how shocked he is—his eyes are widened, his eyebrows are raised, and his lips are parted slightly in an unsaid “oh”. Why is he surprised that Yukhei is here? He was the one who called.

Yukhei stays put, tilting his chin upwards slightly in a defiant gesture.

Mark mumbles something to his new friend, pushing his glass into the other man’s hands as he motions to leave. He shrugs the guy’s hand off his wrist when he tries to pull him back into the conversation. Mark doesn’t say anything in greeting to Yukhei, he only wraps his fingers around Yukhei’s bicep, dragging him off in the direction of the exit.

It’s too noisy for them to talk outside of the bar, and Yukhei didn’t expect to _talk_ to begin with, so he does what he thinks is right. He finishes off his task.

Mark isn’t wasted tonight like he usually is, but he’s at least tipsy. It’s proven in the way he struggles to buckle himself into his seat. He makes a noise of frustration before abandoning the feat altogether, but Yukhei only leans forward wordlessly to buckle him in.

They don’t talk throughout the drive. There’s no music playing in the car either, so the entire journey is pin-drop silence, save for Mark’s breathing that Yukhei’s ears seemed to be keyed into hearing.

It’s almost sad to think about how they used to be the noisiest people in a room only for them to be reduced to this right now—two unspeaking individuals who can barely crack a genuine smile, together or apart.

Yukhei doesn’t know what he expects when they arrive outside Mark’s apartment complex. He parks swiftly into the usual spot Mark had reserved for him all those months ago when he used to come over to visit. Yukhei doesn’t move when Mark unbuckles himself from his seat and throws open his car door.

“Are you coming?” Mark asks after a while, and it’s the first thing that he’s said to him in a long time.

Yukhei is nothing but an obedient fool, so he complies, killing the engine of his car and following right behind Mark.

They don’t speak again until Yukhei nudges the front door to the apartment closed behind him, noting that nothing much has changed since the last time he visited this place properly. It’s different seeing it with the lights on in comparison to the view he’s become accustomed to in the recent weeks of roaming around in the dark.

“Jeno is at Jaemin’s,” Mark quietly supplies, toeing off his shoes not far from where Yukhei is standing. There’s a strong scent of alcohol and mixers wafting from his body. Mark peels off his denim jacket and throws it aside. It doesn’t help dampen the smell.

Yukhei still hasn’t uttered a single word up until now. It’s frightening, somewhat, given that he used to never be able to shut up in Mark’s presence. Mark would have to stuff snacks into his mouth to get him to stop talking before, but now he doesn’t know if anything Mark says will make him return to his talkative self. There’s so much they have to discuss with each other that he doesn’t even know where to begin.

Mark chooses for him. “I’m sorry,” Mark starts, but the apology is for something more straightforward than the reasons Yukhei is thinking. “For making you come so late.”

Yukhei weighs his words in his head before he lets them escape his lips. All he can come up with is a pathetic “Yeah.”

Mark sighs, walking towards the coffee table.

Yukhei follows after kicking off his sneakers at the door. “This isn’t the first time,” he says, pursing his lips after. _Neither is it the second, nor is it the third, fourth, or fifth_.

“I know.”

This isn’t supposed to surprise Yukhei, given that Mark probably doesn’t erase the text messages from his phone after sending them, so Mark will obviously be made aware of his repeated requests for Yukhei to drive him home after he wakes up in the morning. Plus, even without concrete text evidence, their mutual friends will serve as a nagging reminder of all that Mark has done throughout the late nights he spends outside. And yet, here Yukhei is, slightly taken aback by how Mark is well-aware of his actions but has continued to do whatever this is, time and time again.

“The first time was a mistake,” Mark admits, one hand going up to card his fingers through his hair, tousling the black strands haphazardly in mild frustration. “I wasn’t thinking straight. And then… the rest of the times… I didn’t expect you to come, really.”

It’s unnerving for Yukhei to see Mark like this. Mark is like a ticking time bomb right now, spontaneous and unpredictable. Yukhei doesn’t know what he’s going to say next. “Then what did you expect?” Yukhei responds flatly, sighing after.

“I don’t know,” Mark murmurs softly. There’s an air of hesitance that lingers in between them, but eventually Mark closes the distance and rests his hands on the sides of Yukhei’s arms, gripping his triceps muscles firmly. “I don’t fucking know.”

There’s something sincere about the way Mark’s eyes deliver every ounce of doubt in his head—all the question marks, all the muddled up sentences, all the worry and _fear_ swimming in his mind. Yukhei wonders if he’s giving off the same vibes as Mark because he’s equally as confused as he is, if not more. “I don’t fucking know what I’m doing either,” Yukhei confesses.

“The only thing I know—” Mark pauses, as if holding himself back. He’s holding a breath. His pupils are wide and dilated, the black of his eyes a never-ending abyss that Yukhei feels like he’s falling into. “I only know that I fucking love you, and that it’s killing me.”

“It’s been a while, we…” Yukhei exhales evenly through his nose, tearing his eyes away from Mark’s. “We’re not who we were three months ago.”

“Together or apart?”

Yukhei feels Mark’s grip on his arms tighten but it doesn’t seem to hurt. “Both.”

“Am I stupid? For being the only one who’s still in love?”

Yukhei shrugs Mark’s hands off him, and he watches as they fall to Mark’s sides limply. “You don’t know that,” he snaps, unsure of what else to say. “Do you know what it’s like to not be in control of your actions because you’re too blinded by love?”

Mark clenches and unclenches his fists as he shut his eyes. “I do,” he whispers, and there’s so much anguish in his voice that Yukhei doesn’t want to pick apart. “I fucking do, which is why I keep doing this. Do you think this is fun for me?”

“I don’t fucking know what this is for you.”

Mark’s facial features contort into an expression that’s a mixture of rage and sadness. “You pretend to be so strong when you’re not,” he says, and it seems like their conversation is occurring on two entirely different wavelengths. One minute it’s about how they’re both still painfully in love with each other and the next minute it’s about something else entirely. “It’s okay to be fucking human.”

“Aren’t you the same?” Yukhei retorts, his hands finding themselves at the sides of Mark’s face, angling the man’s head to make him look straight at him. It’s a silent challenge for Mark to continue frowning in that manner—to give Yukhei that look as if the root of all their problems came solely from him when they know that they both contributed to it. “You pretend you’re strong while everything is spiralling out of control around you and you don’t want to fucking _talk_ , you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong and you—”

Mark doesn’t bother listening to the rest of what Yukhei has to say as he reaches up and wraps his fingers around the back of Yukhei’s head, crushing their lips together as he brings the taller man’s head downwards to meet his. This effectively stops Yukhei from saying anything else.

Half of what Yukhei was saying made no sense to himself but this—whatever this is—makes even less sense.

Mark’s lips are slightly chapped from mild dehydration from the alcohol, but the friction that this roughness provides is not unpleasant.

Yukhei lets his hands fall to the sides of Mark’s jaw, his thumbs tracing circles around the angle of Mark’s mandible as he licks into his mouth. Mark tastes like the remnants of something bitter, probably the stupid concoction of rum and Coke that he always orders. He’s forgotten what kissing Mark felt like because it’s been so long, but the sensation of Mark’s lips sliding against his doesn’t feel foreign whatsoever.

Yukhei used to think that they were soulmates once upon a time.

Mark’s fingers travel up to Yukhei’s scalp as he grabs a handful of hair, tugging lightly as he tries to gain control of the kiss. Yukhei lets his body move on autopilot and slides his hands down Mark’s form, getting a good grasp of both of Mark’s thighs as he hoists Mark up onto his body. Mark instinctively wraps his legs around Yukhei’s waist as Yukhei continues supporting his weight from the back of his thighs.

They don’t break apart for air once. It’s a practiced manoeuvre that they have experience with.

Mark resumes pulling at Yukhei’s hair, this position giving him an advantage of being on top as he tilts Yukhei’s head backwards to get better access to his mouth.

The kiss is sloppy—mostly spit and teeth—and the force at which their lips are being pressed together will definitely show in the morning. Heck, it’s probably going to show right now with how swollen Yukhei’s lips feel, all puffy and slightly sore as he continues to return the pressure that Mark’s giving.

It’s been quiet thus far besides the thrumming of Yukhei’s own heartbeat echoing in his ears, but the sound of his heartbeat is suddenly replaced by a warmth as Mark breaks their kiss to leave butterfly kisses from his lips to his jaw, then up to his ears, Mark’s breathing tickling every inch of skin. There’s a sudden change in the atmosphere.

Yukhei feels Mark bite the tip of his ear, gently nibbling as he wraps his arms around Yukhei’s head. “Let’s go,” Mark says, his voice raspy and deep.

Yukhei gulps, suddenly much more aware of what he’s doing. He lets his eyes flutter open slowly and he’s met with the sight of Mark still lazily chewing on his ear as his fingers play with his hair. “Mark…” Yukhei calls, unsure of whether he likes where this is going or if he wants to put a stop to it. He’s on the fence about the issue.

Mark whines, obviously comfortable with the scenario that they’ve found themselves in. He presses himself closer to Yukhei and Yukhei isn’t surprised to feel the bulge in Mark’s pants pressing against his abdomen through the layers of clothing.

Fuck, if only Yukhei wasn’t such a sucker for pleasing others.

Yukhei makes an executive decision to move towards Mark’s room, sighing as he feels Mark’s smile against the shell of his ear while he walks. It’s a short trek from the common area to the bedroom, and he doesn’t even bother to turn on the lights when he throws Mark onto the bed, subsequently connecting their lips again in one fluid motion.

Mark’s legs that were curled around his waist don’t relax and instead tighten, causing Yukhei to fall onto him as they continue licking into each other’s mouths messily with no regard for the outside world. It’s almost too easy to lose himself like this—to lose himself with _Mark_ —to forget the sole reason why they are where they are right now.

“Xuxi,” Mark breathes into his mouth, one of his hands trailing down Yukhei’s clothed chest to cup around his dick in his sweatpants.

 _Xuxi_ this, _Xuxi_ that. _Xuxi, Xuxi, Xuxi_.

“I want to—” Mark’s fingers circle around Yukhei’s growing erection as he licks his own lips, his eyelashes fluttering lightly against the top of his cheekbones as he sneaks a look downwards. “I want to see you.”

Yukhei is thankful that there’s only a crack of light emanating from the hallway because he doesn’t really want to look at Mark right now. He doesn’t want to see him properly. Not right now, at least. Not when he’s flitting between two extremes of _yes_ and _no_. “You’re looking at me,” Yukhei quietly says, one hand pushing the hem of Mark’s shirt upwards so he can trace along his hipbone.

Yukhei’s always liked that feature on Mark’s body. He liked how prominently it stood out from the vast expanse of smooth skin.

Mark’s hand dips under the waistband of Yukhei’s pants, immediately slipping under his boxers to get a good grip of Yukhei. “No, I want…” Mark trails off, stroking Yukhei slowly, like he’s considering the cock in his fist right now. “Take it off.”

Yukhei doesn’t do it himself, instead lazily waiting for Mark to lose his patience and do it himself.

Mark eventually does. He releases his grip around Yukhei’s cock, his hands making a quick move of pulling off Yukhei’s sweatpants and boxers. Their positions are soon reversed when Mark pushes Yukhei down and climbs on top of him, casually taking a seat right on Yukhei’s legs as his hands find their way onto Yukhei’s cock once more. “I missed you,” Mark whispers as he bends down to plant lazy, open-mouthed kisses against the inside of Yukhei’s thighs, making the taller man shudder.

“Don’t say that.”

Mark doesn’t say anything in return. He only spits onto the tip of Yukhei’s dick, more than half-hard by now, and wraps his fingers around the head, giving it quick, short tugs that make Yukhei groan against his conscious will.

“Mark,” Yukhei breathes out, and he’s not quite sure what that’s for. Mark’s fingers are expertly undoing him—both physically and psychologically. Every pump of Mark’s hand is a familiar reminder of what used to be.

Mark’s hand is moving at a steady rhythm, but Yukhei can feel Mark’s own erection pressed uncomfortably against his knee as Mark bucks his hips against his legs in an effort to get some form of satisfaction.

Yukhei takes pity on him and unbuckles Mark’s jeans, but he’s surprised when Mark’s hardened cock is on full display underneath the material—no boxers, no underwear. Yukhei doesn’t know what to make out of that. He only returns the favour, letting his dry palms drag along the sensitive skin of Mark’s cock, causing the man to whimper as he chases whatever pleasure he can.

In the midst of all activity it dawns on Yukhei then that they both have chosen their vice. He thought that Mark had chosen alcohol as his coping mechanism, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. On the other hand, he thought that he had found ways to distract himself from thinking about Mark—all better choices than what Mark had chosen—but it’s not true.

At the end of the day, they are each other’s vice.

Mark drinks not to forget, but to make sure that he has an excuse to get Yukhei to meet him.

Yukhei stays up till 2AM—no, _3AM_ —not because he has work to do, but because he’s waiting on Mark.

They make excuses for their own actions, forming distractions in their heads to reason wanting to see the other person—wanting to be with the other person—but they do what they do with one underlying motive, and that is to give them a reason, regardless of valid or not, to see that the other person is still waiting.

It seems like “Mark” is the only thing Yukhei is capable of saying tonight as he calls out Mark’s name for the third time that night. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears, a quiet cry that’s half-swallowed to contain his shame. “I’m close.”

Mark only increases the intensity of his pumps, breaking the rhythm that Yukhei has established with him as he continues stroking his cock. “Mmhm,” Mark hums, but it comes out accompanied by a small moan as he tilts his head back, inhaling sharply.

They come quickly after that. Yukhei comes first, messily shooting his load into the palm of Mark’s hand and he can tell that a bit of it definitely got on his hoodie. Mark follows subsequently, making a strangled noise as he bucks into Yukhei’s hand, his come spurting out onto both himself and Yukhei’s legs.

They take some time to even out their breathing, and Yukhei can see Mark’s chest heaving as he weakly hovers above him, somehow still managing to hold himself up even in his post-orgasm state.

The stickiness in the palm of Yukhei’s hand is a shameful reminder of what he’s done. This will definitely complicate matters even more.

Mark doesn’t say a word until he finally finds the strength to move. He collapses onto Yukhei sluggishly, wiping his dirty hand against the bedsheets and murmuring for Yukhei to do the same. He doesn’t even pull his pants up, lazily burying his face into the crook of Yukhei’s neck where he plants a gentle kiss against his jugular.

Yukhei wants to ask if he should go, but Mark’s pattern of breathing is a dead giveaway that he’s planning to sleeping like this. It’s way past any normal person’s bedtime anyway.

“Don’t go,” Mark whispers, his lips only touching the skin of Yukhei’s neck lightly, gently tickling the area.

“Yeah,” Yukhei breathes out beyond himself, unable to find something more eloquent to say. “I…”

“I love you.”

Hearing those words from Mark again makes Yukhei’s breath hitch. He’d be a liar if he said he doesn’t feel the same. “I… I love you too.” His voice sounds broken to his own ears, but he knows that what’s truly broken is his heart.

Yukhei shuts his eyes and falls into a fitful sleep.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes love isn’t enough to salvage a situation. Yukhei wonders if there’s a price that comes with love, if he’s paying for it by giving something in return. And if he is, what is it that love is taking from him? His pride? His dignity? What about his sanity?

Maybe it’s all of the above and more.

He thinks he’s got it down one second and in the next it’s gone.

Yukhei doesn’t know anything about love, and he knows even lesser about loving Mark.

Sometimes he still thinks that Mark is his soulmate, but other times he doesn’t. With all the uncertainties he finds unravelling in the world he lives in, Yukhei wonders if anything is ever _certain_. If anything he knows is ever true.

The only thing he knows for a fact is that it hurts to love. It hurts to love Mark. It probably hurts Mark to love him in turn.

Amongst all the turbulence in his head, one aspect stands out as clear as day, and Yukhei has come to accept it for what it is in entirety. Regardless of how little sense it makes, or how much pain it causes him—how he feels like he’s losing parts of himself that he once knew—Mark is his vice. His one weakness that he can’t overcome.

Yukhei wishes that his vice was something physical, because this bad habit of his is impossible to kick.

**Author's Note:**

> well...
> 
> twt: [@lucashaeyadwae](http://twitter.com/lucashaeyadwae)


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